“You want to know what happened to our Milana.” Resignation encumbered Theo’s words. Speaking his daughter’s name seemed to instantly age him.
Part of her wished she’d waited for them to bring the topic up. Maybe they could’ve eased into it better.
Too late now. She swallowed the bitter taste skulking in the back of her throat. “Yeah.”
“We lost her in a fire. Arson.”
Online research had told her that much. “So, if she’s, um, gone, why would you think it’s connected to me?”
“They never found a body.” He released a shaky breath. “But the fire was so hot. I knew she couldn’t have survived.”
So they had a hot fire, no body, and obvious foul play. And a grieving family who had chosen to give up all hope?
It didn’t add up.
“You mentioned arson. Did they catch the guy?”
“Yeah. There was really no question as to who set it. McCrink. He’d lost his daughter in a house fire a few weeks before.”
“What did that have to do with you?” She should’ve tried tracking down the police report or something to get more information prior to tonight. It would’ve helped her assess how much of his story was true.
“I was the firefighter who found her.” The words echoed hollowly as he looked down at his hands. “Hadn’t been in the job that long. My first fatality. A girl about the same age as my own kids. There are some things you never get over.”
“So. Because you pulled her from the flames, he blamed you?”
“Easier than blaming himself, I guess. The guy was a junkie.” Theo folded his hands on the table in front of him and leaned in. “The fire at his place was caused by a cigarette. He said he remembered lighting up, but nothing after that. They found heroin in his system and his wife said he shot up all the time. She was at work when it happened.”
The oppressive pause carried the weight of years of guilt. She didn’t break it, but waited for him to continue.
“I found the McCrink girl in her bed, but she was already gone. Smoke inhalation.”
“So he set the fire at your house and targeted your daughter.”
Theo flinched. Michelle rested her hand on top of his and gave a gentle squeeze.
After tucking her hand in between both of his, he looked up at Lana. “That night… the explosion woke us. Michelle got the boys out. I went for her. The door wouldn’t open and I tried to break it down. By the time I did, the smoke was so thick.”
He released Michelle’s hands and pulled up one of his sleeves.
Scarring ran down his forearm. “Fire was everywhere. I remember looking for her and a couple guys from work telling me to get out. But I wouldn’t leave. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the hospital and Michelle told me…” A sigh shuddered out. “She didn’t make it.”
Lana stared at Theo’s face. No indication of deception, but maybe he was a really good liar. “So they declared her dead. Even without a body?”
He nodded.
Forensics wasn’t her forte, but she knew enough. There should’ve been at least some trace of a body.
This story had to be little more than a convenient lie to cover up… something.
She wasn’t sure what. Or why.
But there had to be more to it than what she’d heard so far.
“Wouldn’t there have been something? Bones or teeth, at least?” Amazing how she could keep her tone so mild when her suspicion ran so deep.
Anguish lit Theo’s eyes with a feverish hue and desperation hovered like strong cologne. “The explosion. It–it happened on the bed. They couldn’t even identify all the pieces afterwards. And she was so small. It seemed like the only possibility.”
“And you gotta remember that forensics and investigative techniques weren’t what they are today.” Dimitrios’ rough voice startled her.
Theo’s damp eyes locked on her intensely, pleading with her to understand.
But she wasn’t ready to give her approval or acceptance, not yet.
Maybe not ever.
“So.” Anger laced the single word as she dropped all pretense. “You didn’t file a missing persons report because you assumed she was dead.”
“You have to understand. McCrink confessed. There was evidence against him, including an eyewitness who saw him fleeing the neighborhood. We were at the police station when they questioned him. I saw him when they led him away and he looked me straight in the eye and said ‘Now you know how it feels.’ If you’d seen him, you would’ve believed him, too.”
Much as she wanted to find some inconsistency, some hint of dishonesty, his sincerity and grief convinced her that he’d spoken the truth.
Unless he was a much better actor than anyone in Hollywood.
But a lot of unanswered questions remained. “If he hadn’t killed anyone, why would he confess?”
“Another reason we thought he was guilty.”
“Is he still in prison? I’d like to talk to him.”
Michelle sniffled and dabbed at her eyes. “He died in prison. About a month or two after going in.”
“What happened to him?”
“Some kind of terminal illness. I don’t remember exactly.”
A terminal illness. He’d likely known he was dying and didn’t have long. Could he have confessed to a murder he didn’t commit because he knew he’d never live out his sentence?
Possible. Hatred and revenge were pretty strong motivators.
This was too much to take in all at once. She needed time to think, do more research, maybe track down McCrink’s ex-wife or a previous cellmate and see if he’d said anything to them about the fire and the Lykos girl.
But she didn’t have time.
Instead, she had this family staring at her, hoping against reason that she might be the adult version of their presumed-dead daughter.
“May…?” Michelle’s voice squeaked and she cleared her throat before trying again, “May I ask about your childhood?”
Well, they’d bared their wounds to her; only fair that she return the favor. “I was adopted when I was, well, we think about two. A pastor and his family. They found me on their doorstep in the middle of the night.”
“And before that?”
“I–I don’t know. I have no memories before then.”
Moisture laced Michelle’s eyelashes, clustering them together in clumps, and her chin quivered so severely it was amazing she could even speak. “So you don’t even know if Milana is your given name.”
“We’re pretty sure. It was engraved on the back of a necklace.”
“A necklace?” The words came out in a rush of air. “W–w–was it a daisy? With an amethyst?”
No.
No, no, no!
How could Michelle so perfectly describe the necklace in her jewelry box?
There was only one way.
Nice as these strangers seemed, she didn’t want this. In fact, all she wanted was to get back to her quiet life in Jacksonville.
Unfortunately, it was too late for denial. She had no choice but to deal with it.
The pain in her throat felt like a professional wrestler had clamped on with both hands. “We never could figure out why I would wear a necklace to bed.”
“You refused to take it off. You loved that necklace.” Theo’s voice sounded thicker.
He looked like there was more he wanted to say, but nothing came out.
Instead, he just stared at her. They all did. Like she was some rare animal in a zoo.
The waiter arrived with their food. Not that any of them were likely to have much of an appetite. The smells of melted cheese and sauce assaulted her.
She was going to be sick.
No one spoke until the waiter left.
“I–I can’t believe.” Michelle’s voice wobbled. “All this time. Have you been close?”
“No. My family lived in Denver.”
Fog swirled in her mind. Too much. She couldn’t handle this. Especially not now
.
Her birth parents weren’t the monsters she’d always believed them to be. In fact, they’d mourned her death. For years. They’d likely still mourn over the time that had been lost.
So much made sense now.
The dream. Her subconscious had been trying to remember.
And her hesitation to come to Lincoln City, her strong reaction to the name of the town. More repressed memories. Weird how the city name could resonate, but her biological family’s names and faces not trigger anything.
“Denver. What kind of whack job would drive so far for revenge?” Dimitrios’ voice penetrated her thoughts.
Pull it together.
She could fall apart later. When she was alone.
“Actually, it’s really not that far,” Cyrano’s voice broke through her thoughts. Thank God he’d saved her from having to reply. “You could drive it in about a day or so.”
“Oh. There’s so much I want to know.” Michelle’s smile stretched across her face, a stark contrast to the message sent by the mascara smeared around her bloodshot eyes. “What you do, your hobbies, where you grew up, likes and dislikes, your fa-amily.” Her smile dimmed as she stumbled over the word family.
“That’s a… a long list.” Lana shifted her attention to Theo. “One thing still bothers me. Kidnapping a child and driving several states away to dump her… that’s a lot of trouble. Why didn’t he just kill her, uh, me?”
“My guess?” Theo’s gaze kept circling her face. “You probably reminded him of his daughter. That was what I noticed when I pulled her out of the fire. She reminded me of you.”
“So you were adopted by a pastor?” Michelle ventured in the silence that followed.
“Yeah. I have a great family.” How must it be for them to hear her refer to her parents and her brother and know she wasn’t talking about any of them?
She pushed the thought aside.
It didn’t matter how they took it. Family, true family, went deeper than genetics or blood.
“Just you? Or do they have other children?”
The intensity of Cyrano’s tone, not to mention the look on his face, surprised her. Although, really, she shouldn’t be surprised. In a matter of days, he’d gone from believing his sister was dead to learning she was alive and well.
Maybe he even thought she was playing them or had some kind of angle.
“Only one. Justin’s a few years older than me.” The name slid off her tongue like she’d been saying it for years.
Everyone had started eating and she mechanically did the same.
“What do you do for a living, Milana?”
The use of her full name sounded strange, especially spoken in Theo’s unfamiliar voice. “I work for the government. Basically a paper-pusher, but I get to help people. I like that.”
Okay, that was about as vague as vague could get.
Time to shift attention away from herself. Although she held no illusions it would last long.
She let her gaze travel between them. “So it’s just the four of you?”
“Yes.” Michelle stared at her and Lana briefly wondered if the woman ever blinked. “Well, five counting Donna, Cy’s wife.”
“She really wanted to come,” Cy interjected. “But she caught a nasty bug from her class and can hardly get out of bed right now.”
“Cy and Donna are both teachers,” Dimitrios’ soft voice came from her right.
A cell phone’s ring drifted through the room. Lana tensed.
Not good. She and Alex had agreed upon a time to leave and Alex wouldn’t call unless something had happened.
Wait, that wasn’t her ring.
The thought registered as she saw Cyrano pulling a phone out of his pocket. His eyebrows lowered as he looked at the display and accepted the call. “Hello?”
As he listened to the person on the other end, his jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed.
Hmmm, anger? Concern? Frustration? She didn’t know him well enough to interpret the look, but the caller obviously wasn’t calling with great news.
“Give me a minute.” He pushed back from the table and offered a grim smile. “Sorry, I have to take this.”
Silence ensued as he strode from the table, muttering in tones too low to decipher.
She should ask a question, anything to deflect attention from herself and avoid the many, many questions she couldn’t answer. Nothing came to mind. In fact, it felt like her brain was slowly shutting down. A headache brewed behind her eyes; this whole situation would be so much easier if she wasn’t working.
But she was on the job and had to guard her every word.
“So if you live in Denver, you must be on vacation? What made you choose Lincoln City?”
She didn’t correct Theo on his assumption that she still lived in Denver. “I’m traveling with some friends. They chose the place and I’m just along for the ride.”
A double beep reached her ears as she felt her phone jolt against her thigh.
Her muscles stiffened, which made digging the phone from her pocket challenging.
As she unlocked the touch screen, Alex’s message popped into view.
GET OUT NOW!
Something had happened. To Reilly? Had to be. He was the one wearing a target.
Oh, dear God. Please, no.
She never should have set this up. It was all her fault.
Shoving back her chair, she collected her purse and dropped a twenty on the table. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
Her words came on short breaths that didn’t take in near the amount of oxygen she needed.
What if Stevens had gotten to Reilly? And all because of her selfishness.
“What?” The heartache in Michelle’s word slowed her step. “Will you be back?”
“Not likely.”
Dimitrios had risen from his seat, intense stare locked on her. “Everything okay?”
Concern gave his words a rough edge. No doubt he was remembering the last time.
She couldn’t even manage a tight smile. “I’m sure it’s fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”
Really, she was sure of no such thing.
A slow nod responded and he eased back into his seat.
“How will we get in touch with you?” Theo asked before she could slip away.
She didn’t have time to deal with this right now. Reilly could be dying, for crying out loud. “I’ll call you.”
Not waiting for any further reply, she hurried out of the cubicle as quickly as she could without drawing undue attention to herself. She cut across the restaurant and out the main door into the parking lot.
And stopped. The SUV was gone.
Nineteen
That was good, right? They’d have no reason to leave if Reilly had been killed.
Snatching out her phone, she brought up Alex’s number. Alex answered on the first ring.
Lana didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Reilly. Is he–?”
“He’s fine.” A muffled curse drifted across the line as a horn blared. “We’re taking him someplace safe.”
“What’s going on?”
A siren wailed, so close that her ears rang. She looked up to see an ambulance on the main road, turning toward the restaurant. Two police cars tailed close behind.
“Join Chow in the alley. I’ll call you.”
The call ended as abruptly as it had begun.
She pocketed her phone and looked around. Only one alley nearby, to the right of the restaurant. The few details she had swirled in her head.
Emergency. Moving Reilly. Chow in alley. EMS. Police.
It all painted a very confusing – not to mention troubling – picture. One she wasn’t convinced she wanted to see.
She entered the alley.
Behind her, the emergency vehicles screamed into the parking lot, but she couldn’t tear her attention from the scene in front of her.
A body on the ground, face down in a puddle of blood.
Blood spatter on the wall to her left
.
Chow’s gun aimed at Beckman, who sat on the ground next to a dented dumpster.
She looked at the body. Even from the back, she recognized the man. Peters. Had Beckman been the shooter?
She approached the body, but stopped at Chow’s voice. “He is dead.”
The air squeezed from her lungs. Dead. Peters. She hadn’t really liked the guy, but he didn’t deserve this. No one did.
Light flooded the alley.
Doors slammed. Footsteps pounded.
“Drop the weapon!”
With any luck it’d be the same officers who responded last time. Might help expedite things.
Chow didn’t look away from Beckman. Nor did he lower his weapon. “US Marshals. Here is the man you want.”
Turning, Lana squinted against the light. Two shapes moved toward her. “I’m going to grab my badge.”
“No need.” The voice came from the shape on the right. “I recognize you from the other night.”
The officer moved toward Peters. No doubt to check for a pulse.
“You are going to need the coroner.”
The officer paused at Chow’s words, but proceeded to kneel anyway. After determining Chow was correct, he rose.
“What happened here? Isn’t he,” the officer nodded at Beckman, “one of yours?”
Lana nodded at the body on the ground. “So was he.”
It hurt to say the words out loud. Beckman had shot a member of his own team. Why?
Maybe Peters had been the mole. And maybe Beckman had caught him passing along critical information to Stevens. But if that were the case, why would Chow be holding Beckman at gunpoint?
Unless Peters wasn’t the mole, but Beckman was.
Either way, it wasn’t a story that the Lincoln City PD was likely to hear any time soon.
“I do not know all the details. Beckman had left the table to take a phone call. Peters said he was visiting the restroom. Then he called and said there was a situation and he needed backup. By the time I got out here, he was dead.”
After which Alex and Rodriguez had spirited Reilly away.
Not that Chow would say as much to the locals.
She hoped Reilly had his medication and inhaler. And that Alex was keeping a close eye on him.
“So he shot your guy?” The office sounded as skeptical as she felt.
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